And They Danced
by Jimmy Candlestick
Summary: He had a date. One shot.


**So, I'm really not one for romance. In fact, I generally hate it. But, this movie was amazing. And, I hated that they didn't dance. I realize that Peggy's probably dead, but, this is fanfiction. So, there. **

**Please, enjoy. **

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><p>Steve got out of the car nervously, gazing at the low, single story building before him. It wasn't much, nothing too impressive. A building designed with a center section that had two wings going off the sides. The decorative garden in the front managed to make the retirement home more welcoming, it's various purple and yellow flowers, and different trees offering a pleasant contrast to the warm, red bricks.<p>

"I'll wait here." His driver, one of the SHIELD agents, said behind him.

When Steve turned to acknowledge him, he couldn't help but notice the look of awe, and the quiet respect in the man's voice. He still didn't understand why he was regarded so. From every other interaction he had seen SHIELD agents participate in, they had been cold and professional – almost emotionless.

He had seen Nick Fury growl threatening words to a few of his own operatives, and the man seemed to fear nothing and no one. Yet, whenever he talked to Steve, it was with the up most respect.

Straightening his uniform jacket, Steve took a deep breath and walked up to the doors. He was glad he requested a uniform, instead of wearing those jeans they had provided for him to wear around his apartment in the base. He hadn't quite gotten used to the idea of wearing them in public, though he had seen it several times. It just felt...wrong.

The doors slid open, for him, and Steve found himself thankful, for once, for all the doors that slid open at the base, When it first happened, he stared and stared wondering how that happened, since there were no buttons to be seen, and no person operating it, as far as he knew.

It was almost ironic, he thought, that with all the modern changes there was still one thing that stayed pretty much the same: everyone seemed to respect the uniform greens. Which was demonstrated as he walked up to a young woman who seemed to be staff in this retirement home.

"Excuse me?"

She looked up, her eyes widening appreciatively at the sight of the tall man before her. "Yes sir, can I help you?"

"Uh yeah, I'm looking for a Peggy Carter?"

The young woman – Shelly, her name tag said – noted with interest the look of hope that flooded through his eyes. "Peggy Carter? She's right down the hall. Follow me."

Steve followed meekly, his eyes wandering over the beige walls. It was a very calm atmosphere, and quiet. He tried not to glance through the open doors, but, when he did, he could see the elderly in beds, though a few were sitting in chairs, and, even fewer were being visited by family.

These small glimpses only reminded Steve to brace himself for seeing Peggy. Nick Fury _had _warned him when he first told Steve about her.

"_She's still alive?" Steve sat back in shock. He had thought everyone was gone. Howard Stark, his team...everyone._

_Nick Fury nodded, taking a drink of coffee. "Yes. But, Cap, she's ninety. She won't be the same."_

"Here it is," Sherry said, cutting into his thoughts.

Steve stopped at the door, looking in, uncertainly. "Thank you."

"You're quite welcome."

He stepped in slowly, eyes sweeping over the group of cards and flowers on a table. There was a picture, too. It was at an angle, though...looking directly across the room. He could see a bit of a face, but...he couldn't quite see it, though it was getting easier as he stepped closer.

"Steve?" A voice drew his attention away from the picture. It was a soft, older voice.

He turned his head and met bright, beautiful, brown eyes. "Peggy?"

The eyes glistened with tears as she nodded. "Steve is that really you? Or am I just dreaming again?"

Steve watched as the tears escaped her eyes, and followed the lines of her wrinkles. How had she aged so? And here he was, seemingly not a day older. "Yeah, Peggy. It's me."

"They called ahead, told me about how they found you." She swallowed. "Oh, Steve...you look wonderful."

Steve stepped toward her, trying to smile. "Thanks. You're um...you're..."

Peggy laughed, almost bitterly. "You _still _don't know how to talk to women!"

Steve had the grace to blush.

"And don't think of lying to me, Steve Rogers. I look horrid, I'm old and...and wrinkled. I can't even share a fondue anymore." Her eyes twinkled in wicked delight with those last words.

Steve glanced at the ground. "Not your eyes. Your eyes are the same. Just as beautiful as I remembered."

She smiled softly. "Well, then, perhaps you have gotten better at talking with women. Just a smidge though."

Steve smiled again, willing his mouth to keep from trembling.

"Why are you here, then?" She looked at him in a challenging way, as if she knew why, she just wanted to make sure _he _knew why.

Steve cleared his throat. "I had a date."

"Hm." Peggy pursed her lips together. "Yes. And, you're late."

"I couldn't get a ride."

Peggy chuckled. "No, I guess you couldn't. Alright, then."

Steve looked up. "Alright then, what?"

"Alright then. How about that dance?" Peggy was already trying to get out of bed.

Steve rushed to her side, gently placing his hands under her arm to help her up. She felt so fragile, he was almost scared that he'd break her bones. He could, he supposed, if he was using too much force. But he didn't even want to think about that.

After a moment, Peggy was shakily standing beside the bed, leaning heavily on Steve. Slowly, painfully, she tilted her head up to look at him. "Shall we dance?"

Steve looked down, surprised at how much smaller she was, now. "I still don't know how."

"I can still teach you."

"But there's no music."

"There doesn't have to be."

With a final nod, Steve agreed.

Peggy, too tired to keep her head up, leaned it against his chest.

And they danced.

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><p><strong>How was it? Please, tell me. :) -Jimmy C.<strong>


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